The iris opened and the defense team stood alert. SG-1's IDC had come through, but after eight years operation, the SGC did not take simple things like identification codes for granted. Luckily, four figures emerged from the event horizon and it seemed P4X-966 had been uneventful for the flagship team, sending them home with nothing more than minor sunburns. The beautiful fields and natural gardens of 966 had concealed nothing out of the ordinary. The occasional cut stems and disturbed soil showed some sort of activity, but there was no evidence of a civilization on the planet. It was as if it were nothing more than a planet-sized walking garden. SG-1 helped Sam take soil and flora samples before dialing the gate and heading back home.

"Stop it," Daniel barked irritably as Mitchell teased a flower in his direction, triggering a violent sneeze from the archeologist. Daniel shoved him away.

"79," Mitchell said happily, undeterred. He held a bouquet of large purple flowers and had a menacing gleam in his eye as Daniel sneezed again. "80!"

Sam stepped between Mitchell and Daniel, giving Daniel room to get a few paces away. She glared at Mitchell, he'd been playing his stupid sneezing game as soon as Daniel's allergies had been triggered on the planet. As soon as their debrief was done she was planning on letting Mitchell know exactly what she thought about his bullying.

"General," Daniel called to Landry in the control room. "May I have permission to kill Mitchell?" He had a thick, congested accent.

"What's the matter, Jackson? Run out of Kleenex?" Mitchell asked, putting his face in his bouquet and inhaling with a content sigh. Just watching someone breathe in the pollen made Daniel sneeze. "81!"

"Anyone care to explain?" Landry asked Sam and Teal'c.

"Colonel Mitchell is attempting to make Daniel Jackson sneeze one hundred times," Teal'c told him. Teal'c had long ago come to the conclusion that he was never going to understand Tau'ri rituals. Hazing, as he had come to understand it, was merely an exercise in passive aggressively establishing dominance within a social group. It was strange to observe. If in fact, Mitchell was trying to ensure his position as leader, Jolma'sheku was a much more practical way to achieve his goal.

"About getting to –achoo!- kill him?" Daniel asked Landry as Mitchell shook the bouquet at him again.

"Face it, Jackson," Mitchell teased him. "Even under the best of circumstances, you wouldn't be able to take me. Also, 82."

All eyes were on SG-1. It was a well-known fact that Dr. Jackson's fighting skills had improved drastically over the years, but he was still no match for a fully trained Air Force Colonel. Not that being the underdog had ever stopped him from trying. And, as many SGC personnel had seen with their own eyes, in the right mood he was a force to be reckoned with. But eyes watering, nose running, and breathing hampered he wouldn't stand a chance. He knew it, too.

"General," Daniel asked. "May I have permission to pay someone to kill Mitchell for me?" He did his best to hold back the sneeze he felt coming on.

"Oh, that's not fair. C'mon now." Mitchell took a step forward and Daniel took a step back. "Don't hold it in. Just let it out. You'll feel so much better. It's a big one, I can tell."

"Cam," Sam signed, barely looking up from the samples she was handing off to the ecology team. "Leave the poor guy alone."

"No playing favorites," Mitchell told her.

And then it came; five rapid fire sneezes that had Daniel doubled over.

"87!"

"Doctor?" Landry got his attention, breaking up the shoving match that had broken out between the two. He had stopped trying to reign in SG-1, there was no point. What the team went through on a daily basis could burn out the most professional of servicemen. Fluff missions like 966 gave them a break and time to blow off some steam. The team was made up of personnel well known for forgetting to take their leave. A mission like 966 was a quiet way of giving them a little break. "Permission granted. Now go do whatever you have to do to get that under control."

"Thank you, sir." Another sneeze.

"88! You're so close!"

"I may just-"

"92!"

"-go home," he finished after another multi-sneeze fit.

"Whatever you need to do, Doctor," Landry assured him.

Daniel nodded and headed to the locker room to change. "$500 to whoever brings me his head; spread the word!"

. . . . . . . . . . . . .

"Sam, it was a joke," Mitchell insisted the next day. Daniel had ended up going home, the allergy attack so bad he'd convinced Dr. Lam to give him the 'good stuff' by just walking into her office.

"You were the only one who thought it was funny," Sam told him flatly, as they navigated the halls of the SGC, Sam on her way to her lab, Mitchell on the way to the gym. "You were torturing him."

"I was making the man sneeze."

"Incessantly."

"Hilariously."

Sam didn't respond, just stared coldly ahead.

"Look, I know he's got that doe eyed cutie pie thing going for him that you girls seem to love so much, but Jackson has a sense of humor, you cannot honestly tell me that he's so sensitive that a harmless prank really bothered him."

Sam grunted in disapproval. "You made him so sick he had to go home. That's not harmless."

"The man was exaggerating to get sympathy points. It's the natural defense mechanism of the nerd."

Sam stopped walking. "Did you just call Daniel a nerd?"

"Don't go taking that out of context, Sam," Mitchell told her. Was it just him or was Sam being weirdly protective today?

"Now you're just being mean," she said, disgusted. "What is wrong with you?"

"You call him a nerd all the time. And a spaz, a dork, and idiot, a klutz…" he listed off.

"To his face when he's in a good mood," Sam pointed out. "He's not even here to defend himself. Cam, this isn't like you. I have to say I am not a fan."

"Look, I'll apologize to him. Will that make this better?"

"If you actually mean it."

"I honestly did not think I was being mean," Mitchell said as sincerely as he could. "I will find him and I will apologize."

"His office is that way," Sam gestured when he didn't move.

"Right. Project: Admit I was a jerk is underway."